Last week, my family and I said goodbye to my cousin Haven. At 19 years old, he was too young for many of the things that had been thrown his way, and he was far too young to lose his life. He will be missed dearly by his many friends, by his family, and by me.
As I’ve absorbed the shock of his passing, I’ve found myself trying to make sense of it all. To figure out some way of explaining what happened. I think that’s natural. After all, we take comfort in the notion that there’s some sort of logic behind the things that happen to us.
Some say every event that takes place, whether good or bad, is part of a greater plan. That even tragedies make up pieces of God’s purpose. I appreciate the motivation behind this idea, to find meaning in the terrible things that happen to us. But I have to disagree. There are many things that happen in this life contrary to the will of God, which is why God hurts with us when disaster strikes.
I believe that God’s plan for Haven was for him to live an abundant life. That his death is as much a loss for the universe as it is for me. That it wasn’t supposed to be this way.
There is no logic in a kind, beloved 19-year-old with endless potential having his life suddenly cut short. There is no greater plan behind a family in mourning. Despite our best efforts to find one, there is no cosmic reason that our hearts are broken.
The disasters that we face in this life are a result of the broken world that we live in. A world where bad things happen to good people. Where we hurt each other and ourselves. Where we can’t escape the effects of the darkness we’ve created by choosing to live selfishly.
Why do disasters happen? Because we’ve created a world where they are possible.
When I think about this deep brokenness we face, it can sometimes seem like enough to overwhelm me. I feel my own heartache, and I imagine all the other people experiencing loss in their own way. It can feel like too much to bear.
But then I have to remind myself that that’s not the whole story. As dark as this world may seem, there is good in it, too—though it may be hard to see at times. Brokenness doesn’t have to have the final say.
There is beauty in this life. There is grace. There is love. There is so much good, if only we’ll look for it and choose to create it ourselves.
Haven did that. He generated a lot of good in his short life. Attending his memorial, I was surrounded by the many people he’d touched through his kindness, his wit, and his charm. I was reminded of the times that we had together growing up, all the fun and the joy. I saw his love of life and those around him through the memories shared.
Those things are good, and they don’t go away, even in the midst of unimaginable loss. The darkness won’t overcome the light if we don’t let it.
When we’re forced to face the brokenness of this world, we are given a choice: Do we let ourselves become broken by it, too, or do we work to heal it? We can let the tragedies overwhelm us. Or we can make the world a better place for everyone through the way we live.
That’s what I’m inspired to do. My cousin brought light into this world; I will honor him by choosing to do the same.
The truth is that we can’t stop tragedy from coming our way. It’s an unfortunate side effect of the world that we live in. But what we can do is take what we’re given and use it to do as much good as we’re able: to help others, to create beauty, to share love. It’s the closest thing we have to making sense of it all.
And for me, it’s enough.
